


Merlock and Sturjohn: Funtags Challenge, March 2018

by 2babyturtles



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - The Little Mermaid Fusion, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Fashion Disaster Averted, M/M, Monthly Funtags Challenge, Ocean, Unrequited Lust, Weird Plot Shit, Yoga Pants are Basically a Mating Display, up where they bang all day in the sun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 20:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13935009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2babyturtles/pseuds/2babyturtles
Summary: But what if yoga pants really *are* a human mating call? Certainly even a merperson must see the opportunity there.





	Merlock and Sturjohn: Funtags Challenge, March 2018

With a gentle curl of his tail, Merlock sends a soft ripple across the ocean’s already waving surface. There’s something particularly fascinating to him about the movement and he watches as his own small influence fades into the tossing of so many others. He smiles to himself, and closes his eyes, enjoying the east wind that blows in his face. When he can’t hold his breath any longer, he dives back beneath the surface of the water and fills his lungs with the cold salt water, gills pumping furiously to reclaim his suspended oxygen.

He’s been slow-going this morning but his destination is looming and a pit of nerves forms in his stomach. He’s as tempted to go back as he is to push forward and manages the latter only with gritted teeth and stubborn-set brows.

A flitting sturjohn bumbles at the expression. “You don’t have to do this,” he warns his friend.

“I know,” Merlock responds after a moment. He knows the sturjohn wants to ask why he does anyway, but the fish is polite and leaves Merlock to his own thoughts. Which, of course, turn inevitably to a certain human.

She’d been walking near the water when Merlock had first seen her, and he’d been utterly smitten ever since. With soft brown hair and a small smile permanently etched into her angled features, the human woman was beautiful. She’d worn the same sort of outfit nearly everyday since then and Merlock had been confused at first. When he’d finally managed to make his way back to Inspeagull Detective Lestrade and asked, he’d been told in no uncertain terms that the soft stretchy pants the human wore were part of a mating call known well among humans.

Merlock had been delighted to hear the news but was nervous; he didn’t have anything of the sort to respond with. Finally, after weeks spent rummaging through the trash thrown into his waters, he’d found a pair that he thought would fit. He thought it odd that they’d’ve been thrown away, but he was grateful and allowed just this one question to go unanswered.

“I want to,” Merlock finally admits, deciding in favor of answering the sturjohn’s unspoken questions. “She’s beautiful and I can’t help hoping this works.”

“How is it going to work?” The sturjohn’s eyes are sympathetic and Merlock nearly smiles at his friend’s thoughtfulness. He rarely smiles, but sturjohn was one of the few that could elicit such a response. “She’s human and you’re…you’re a goldfish to her, Merlock.”

With tightly pressed lips, Merlock considerse the truth ringing in his friend’s words. “Up there, on those sandy beaches and under that gleaming sun, those samesuch humans are performing mating calls _daily._ They’re just…up there banging. All the time. I can’t leave an opportunity like this.”

The sturjohn would’ve rolled his eyes if he could’ve rolled his eyes but he is a fish and fish cannot roll their eyes. Regardless, his expression is clear and Merlock fixes his own eyes ahead, ignoring the silent warning. The sturjohn doesn’t leave it silent.

“You don’t even have legs. How are you going to wear those silly pants?”

Merlock had thought of this issue but prefers not to think of it right now and simply smahes his lips together again and scowls forward. Gliding through the sea, the two arrive at Merlock’s destination before the conversation can be pressed.

The sun is still warm and Merlock pops his head through the surface of the water, carefully scanning the beach for the human woman he came for. In his hand, he tightly clutches the pants and his mind is racing as he tries to think of how to put them on. It will be another matter altogether if they work and he either must convince this woman to mate with him in the sea or somehow climb onto the sand. His thumps races at the thought.

After a moment, he spots her, wearing the same soft pants he’d seen before. He edges closer to the shore ahead of her, where she will eventually reach him but he will be out of sight of others who might not take so kindly to a merperson. Reaching frantically for the pants and jamming his tail through the first hole he finds, an action which significantly hampers his movement, and finally stops to rest in the shallow waters. The sturjohn waits further out.

“Hello, woman,” Merlock begins, tasting the words in his mouth. He shakes his head and tries again. “Hello, lovely lady. I, too, wear the mating pants.” He falters at the thought of showing her his efforts and glances down to consider what to do with the second leg. To his surprise—and joy—he’s managed to recover a soft stretchy skirt, not pants, and the material has slipped easily over his tail. Fashion disaster averted, he returns to his speech.

Before he can get anything else out, however, the woman comes into view a short distance away. One hand rests placidly on her stomach and a soft smile crosses her face. Merlock recognizes the signs of human pregnancy and pushes himself back into the water, shocked. Approaching the sturjohn, Merlock frowns.

“I suppose they do bang a rather awful lot,” he muses. “It’s only reasonable she would eventually find a mate among her own kind.”

The sturjohn blinks, his eyes focused on the skirt around Merlock’s waist. “You do look lovely, though,” he murmurs.

Merlock raises an eyebrow. “Three oceans worth of mating and you settle on the merman in a skirt? I think you’ll have to try a lot harder for a piece of this tail.” He leaves one last smirk behind him before zipping past the fish and into the depths of the ocean.

Wiggling slightly, the sturjohn manages to slip off a piece of soft stretchy fabric from where he’d gotten it around his own fins. “Fashion disaster averted,” he decides, and dashes after his friend.


End file.
